


Gentle

by AuraSweet13



Series: Samar/Harold [2]
Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 05:29:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4864856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuraSweet13/pseuds/AuraSweet13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After 'Luther Braxton', Cooper worries over Samar's well being and tries to be covert about it. Tries being the operative word.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gentle

Harold was kicking himself. He had been trying so hard to be professional, he had overcompensated and come off as distant and detached. Like he didn’t care that she had almost died. Even though that couldn't have been further from the truth, considering how panicked he had been listening to her suffocate. But before he could correct his mistake, she was gone, gone after Liz. He found himself worrying over her. Her ankle had been wrapped in a bandage when she and Ressler had arrived in the Post Office. What if she hurt it worse? There was a part of him, a large part, that felt like he didn't have the right to worry over her like this, that he'd lost the right with his attempt to be professional. Did she think he didn't care about her? If she had been able to see his reaction the entire time Braxton had picked her to use as a bargaining chip for the code, she would know that he cared about her. His tight grip on the headset. The desperation in his tone.  _Please, stop._ Of course, she didn't know that, and he couldn't very well tell her.

They were both better off if he kept things strictly professional.

But the sheer relief he'd felt seeing her limp into the Post Office, supported by and leaning heavily on Ressler, had been so destabilizing it scared him.

Of course, logically it made sense for him to be relieved that she was alive. She was one of his agents, after all.

But the relief had gone past that. And that was the part that he didn't know how to deal with.

He paced in his office, waiting anxiously for any news. Harold snapped out of his thoughts when he heard sounds just outside of his closed office door, and left the room to investigate. Liz, Ressler and Samar entered the office. Ressler looked fine, save for looking tired, and both Liz and Samar looked worse for wear. Samar was favouring her ankle. He noticed her sit down at her desk, almost slouching in her chair as she brought her foot up to examine it. Even from where he stood, on the second floor, as it were, he could see the red soaking through the bandage. Harold wanted nothing more than to go check on her, but he didn't want anyone to get suspicious.

However, luck seemed to be on his side, because shortly afterwards, Ressler helped Liz over to the office on the main floor, probably so they could talk in private. Harold inhaled and exhaled deeply, before using his cane to get him down the stairs and over to her desk. The closer he got to her, the more clearly he could see the sheer exhaustion on her face, the pain in her eyes. It made his heart hurt.

When she looked up and saw him, her eyes widened slightly. Her posture straightened, her hand dropped from where it rested on her ankle. "Sir." She murmured with a nod.

He smiled. "Agent Navabi." Harold murmured gently, shifting so he was kind of kneeling to get a better look at her ankle. "Let me have a look at that for you." Glancing up, he saw the surprise on her face. But, was it just him, or was there something else, too? He couldn't focus on that right now, though.

"Thank you, sir." She said quietly. His smile widened just a little as he gingerly unwrapped the bloody bandages, taking off her boot in the process to better have access to it. Harold tried his hardest not to do anything that would hurt her. The blood had clotted, thankfully, but he still wanted to make sure there was no chance of infection. So he got up to dispose of the old bandages and grab new ones for her. He came back over, fresh bandages in his hand, and once more knelt to be able to treat her ankle better. He wasn't a doctor, but he didn't need to be in order to know how to bandage a wound. Every time she winced, he could almost feel her pain, and he hated to be the one causing it. However, he knew he needed to, to help her. It was the least he could do, with how flippant he'd been hours before. Again, though, he wouldn't tell her this. He couldn't. "Sir?" When she spoke, he looked up, and found her looking at him. Her face was slightly flushed with pain.

"Yes?" Was he hurting her? He wasn't trying to.

"How are you doing?" The question surprised him. People seldom asked him how he was, though that was partially his fault, since no one on his team even knew he was sick in the first place. There was a concern in her eyes that touched him.

"I'm doing all right, thank you for asking, Agent Navabi." Harold responded as he continued to wrap her foot. He was trying to make it so the wound would be protected, but not tight enough to cut off her circulation.

"Are you sure? I mean, it's none of my business but if you ever want to talk..." Her gaze went to his side, and he realized she was looking at the cane. "I'm here to listen." And then she was looking back at him.

He placed his hand on her knee and gave her a soft smile, squeezing it gently. “I appreciate that, Agent Navabi.” For a split second, he genuinely considered telling her, if only so he didn't have to keep it all bottled up. But she'd been through enough as it was today, he didn't want to do or say anything that could make it worse.

Maybe he would tell her eventually.

Just not today.

"There, all done." He said as he finished bandaging her foot (though it might have taken longer than necessary solely because her presence had distracted him from the task, but he wouldn't dare admit that, to himself or anyone else). He was careful in putting her boot back on. "Don't overdo it." He looked at her again after her boot had been put on.

Samar smiled, and again his heart jolted in his chest. "I won't. Thank you, again." He smiled and gave her knee another gentle squeeze and got up, leaning on the cane to do so. She watched him, and he could see concern in her eyes. But she didn't ask, and he was grateful for that. He looked at her, trying to see if he could spot any more damage she sustained at the Factory. But aside from that and some bruises on her neck and collarbone-from the chain no doubt-he couldn't see anything. So he gave her a smile, then turned and headed back to his office.

He was getting in way too deep. It was past attraction now.

But he couldn't let it go any further. No, he wouldn't let it go any further. He entered his office and sat down at his desk. Immediately, his gaze went to the photo of his wife, smiling. He remembered that moment. He'd caught her off guard taking the picture, which explained the startled but beaming grin on her face. At the time, Harold had thought it was the most beautiful picture he'd ever taken.

But now he turned it so it was facing away from him, riddled with guilt.

Whatever attraction he had to Samar...it ended today. It had to.


End file.
